From GI Joe to Teddy Bear
by SinisterSweetheart
Summary: He couldn’t face Dean. He couldn’t face the pain he might see in those hazel, green eyes and knowing he put it there.:::Sort of an add on fic to Asylum. Takes place a few days later. Please R&R and you wont be dissapointed! Hopefully!:D Rated M for langua
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Before I begin I am sorry to my reviewers (if you read Inuyasha) that I haven't posted a new chapter for Moonlight Tears (Inuyasha). I have been debating on how I want the story to go and the options are ridiculous and I thank those of you who have stuck with me on it but I can tell you that the next chapter will be soon because I have finally decided on what to do with it and hopefully you aren't disappointed. Now for the REAL authors note. LOL

This is a little thing I made for the episode Asylum on what I think (okay more wanted to happen) after Asylum. It takes place a few days later and I haven't seen the episode after it but I am pretty sure this isn't anything like it's gonna go but I like this story and I hope you do to. Please read and review, Enjoy! This is Sam's P.O.V and pt.2 or chapter 2 is Deans which I will hopefully be posting in under a week, just got to get all the kinks worked out. Here you go! Oh and P.S, I am not too good with chapter titles so please bare with me :D TY

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or the beautiful boys in it! But…I do however own the title little dance for melittle dance for me…..stops and stares…heh…um…anyway… I don't own them so please don't sue me!**_

**Part 1: Chapter 1:**

**G.I. Joe to Teddy Bear**

**Sam's P.O.V**

"You know sometime…you are gonna have to tell me." Sam said as he sad down on the faded blue blanket that was the blanket of his bed.

And he knew, with just one look of them…that they were going to be itchy. Sam shook his head, berating himself for his A.D.D imitation as he looked back over at his brother who was pulling miscellaneous things from his brown duffle bag, clothes, deodorant, dagger, just the usual things. Sam saw Dean shake his head and could nearly tell what the reply would be. Sam still couldn't figure out why he cared so much but it was amusement, so he had to know.

"Only in your dreams, Sam." Dean said as he placed the polished dagger under his pillow and placed the duffle bag on the floor, leaving the other things still on his bed.

Sam felt a twinge in his heart, and had corrected in his mind, _"Sammy"_. Dean hadn't called him Sammy for a little less then a week, ever since he …no, Sam wasn't going to go into that. He wasn't going into the fact that he had nearly shot his brother.

Dean made his way to the bathroom, a large white, folded towel in his hands.

Sam stood up from his place on the bed and walked over to stand in front of his brother who had the smuggest look on his face and Sam could only wonder how fake it was.

"You know, I will find out." Sam said, although his voice betrayed his thoughts.

He just somehow knew that no matter how hard he tried, he could never figure it out. Dean was way too good at keeping secrets and had been like that since they were kids. From Dean hiding his tennis shoes to lying if the wounds on his body were hurting. Yep, Dean had always been good at keeping secrets, and in this case…it was no different. But he wondered how long Dean could keep this from him. Of course it wasn't that big of a deal but he couldn't help his curiosity. But his mind began to drift form his original intent and back to what had happened back in Rockford. That was another secret Dean was keeping. But Sam wasn't so sure he wanted that one to be revealed.

It wasn't some normal supernatural gig they had come back from. Normal was probably the most far fetched word in that sentence but for them, supernatural was normal. Sam had thought for a moment he saw a flash of pain pass through his older brothers' eyes but it was quickly diminished as Dean's façade made itself known.

"Whatever, Sam" Dean said as he closed the bathroom door, and by the slight click, Sam knew it was locked. Sam registered that the answer was not to his recent thoughts but to his past curiosity. But this Asylum thing was killing him. Sam rested his head on the wall right next to the door and could tell, by some weird brother thing he had with Dean, that he was doing the same. Things were stressful with the brothers. Sam had wanted and needed to talk to Dean, to tell him he loved him. But Sam knew that Dean wouldn't let Sam get past "we need to talk". And he had every reason too. Even if Dean had said he believed it when he said he knew he didn't hate him…he couldn't shake the feeling that it wasn't truth.

Sam stood up straight and walked over to the bed and laid down, his eyes looking at the ceiling but not really seeing it. His mind was so heavily coated with guilt that it had no room to register that his subconscious was shaping the mold.

Sam had said he would give his life for Dean, and he had gone and had nearly let some crazy doctor take Dean's life away. Sam clenched his eyes shut. He could remember everything from Dr. Ellicott tricking him downstairs, to Dean's fist flying at his face. Sure there was a good few moments in between where he couldn't recall what happened. You don't just get a full on punch from a man with seemingly brass knuckles and stay conscious right after to tell the tale. Sure he had been slightly conscious but another punch sure made being awake impossible.

"_You hate me that much?"_

He shook his head, the images flashing before his mind like a slideshow.

"…_you are pathetic…"_

At this point, Sam had slapped a hand to his forehead.

_Click_

_Click_

_Click_

He had pulled the trigger, but he hadn't pulled the trigger. And not only had he pulled and not pulled the trigger but he pulled and not pulled the trigger three times. Sam shook his head again, realizing that he was making sense but not making sense all at once. He growled to himself, relieving him of the sense did/did not phase he just had as he stared up at the ceiling. He stared at it in disbelief.

The mold had a sentence. "Click". Sam quickly rubbed his eyes before seeing that the mold had become, once again, just mold. Sam sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and resting his arms on his legs, hands clasped. Not only was he feeling guilty, but mold was telling him he should be. Sam's thoughts were disrupted as heard the loud screech of metal on metal as the shower was turned off. Sam shook his head, reminding himself that if he kept doing it that his head might spin off. He hadn't even heard Dean turn on the shower.

"Guilt deafens the ears and blinds the eyes. Resolution is the miracle to cure both." Sam whispered more to himself then to the mold above his head. Sam could remember where he heard that saying. It was a gig up in Ohio in a little town called Ellet, a quaint place with more human problems then supernatural. While there he and Dean had encountered a girl who had helped them with the killing of a few werewolves that had been crushing up the place. He couldn't exactly remember her name, only that she was a teenager and had been into the whole Supernatural world.

Right before leaving she had given them a small wrapped metal symbol and had said the words that Sam's mind had decided to bestow upon him. A week later they had used the symbol in a case where two ghosts had decided to fight because they had guilt issues. The symbol had awakened their inner most thoughts and the ghosts had resolved the problems, their spirits disappearing. Sam looked to the bathroom door and down at his duffel bag. The symbol only worked on ghosts but it was clear, he needed to make up with his brother. He had to some how get to Dean's head, tell him he loved him without being accused of being a girl with chick flick moment issues and making a good amend with his brother.

Yeah right.

But it was hope and Sam had always been a great believer in hope.

But then again…this was Dean Winchester…Mr. G.I. Joe himself.

Sam clenched his fists as the words came back into his head of the horrible things he said to Dean. Sure he didn't like being bossed around and that Dean followed everything Dad said mindlessly but he sort of understood and hated that Ellicott made it sounds so out of place.

Sam's head whipped around as heard the bathroom door open and watched as a towel clad Dean walked out of the bathroom. He didn't fail to notice the new bandages on his brothers' chest... How could he when his brother was walking around in nothing but a towel. Sam watched as his brother walked over to his bed and rummaged through the clothes he had picked out. _He changed them. And he didn't even ask for help and I know he did. Rock salt even cleaned out has a bitch of an after affect._

"Stop staring Sam, or people might think you are an incester."

Sam blinked a few times, decided whether or not he could start up a conversation with Dean about what happened but as he saw the bandages he backed down and decided to just play Dean's name calling game and take a shower. He couldn't face Dean. He couldn't face the pain he might see in those hazel, green eyes and knowing he put them there. Before the seconds ticked by too quickly Sam retorted to Dean's usual remark.

"Incester isn't even a word, Dean." Sam said as he stood up from his bed and grabbed his duffel bag.

"Yeah well either way, you are a disgusting type of guy" Dean said as he turned to Sam.

Sam gave a forced laugh before turning and heading to the bathroom which was a good three steps away. How could he manage? He had nearly made two steps when Dean spoke again.

"You alright Sam, you look like shit. When's the last time you slept?" Sam turned his head slightly. Dean was picking out the random objects and weapons that had been folded in his clothes.

He looked like shit too but he had different reasons. Sam looked back to the bathroom.

"I'm fine, just been having some rough nights of sleep." _Can't get the Asylum out of my fucking head. God…Dean…_

Even as Sam thought this, he couldn't help but feel more like an ass. Here Dean was, still hurting from the Asylum, his strong front on full blast, and fussing over his little brother. Sam quickly stepped the last step into the bathroom and shut the door with a light click. Locked. Sam sighed. He knew Dean wouldn't buy it but he needed to escape the worried gazes from Dean that he didn't deserve.

Sam heard Dean shuffle around a bit. _Probably getting dressed._ Sam thought as he set his duffle bag on the closed lid of the toilet. He looked up in the mirror and clearly saw why Dean had asked. He had semi-large bags under his eyes, which were tired and starting to become blood shot in a few areas. His face was dirty from just a few hours ago after dealing with a ghost that turned out to be nothing more than a very badly put together gas pump.

Either way, the house was blown up but no one was hurt. The family hadn't believed them about the gas leak but had thanked them repeatedly for destroying the "ghost".

Sam could remember Dean's words in the car as they returned to the motel they were currently in.

"_You would think if you smelt gas that you would automatically check out the pump. But I guess that's what you get when the only type of gas you know is the ones that come out of your ass."_

Sam smiled, despite his reflection, at the memory. The people who had lived in the house seemed to be the Beverly Hills type, rich and oblivious. Sam walked over to the shower and started it, the familiar screeching once again shaking every nerve in his head as the hot water poured thickly from the shower head. Sam removed his clothes, leaving them rest in front of the sink as he let the warm water run over his tense muscles.

How had things gone so wrong? Sam could feel himself drifting into a painful daze so he rubbed his face under the water and forced his mind to remain clear, which was surprisingly easy. After a good 10 minutes, the water had gotten cold and the twenty minutes of hot water ceased to be. _Twenty minutes of hot water, that's more than we usually get. _Sam turned off the water, his hair still dripping wet as was the rest of his body as he wrapped a towel from the metal hanger around his waist.

Sam took the half step to his duffel bag and dug through it, his mind in automatic as he searched for the clothes he wanted to wear. Not that it matter, they all consisted of pants and shirts and would be dirty by next week. Nothing special. He was just about to pull his hand away with the clothes in his grasp when the back of his hand brushed across cool metal. Sam, with his curiosity getting the best of him, pulled out the object to find it was the metallic symbol from Ohio.

He stared at it a moment, his eyes wondering over every cress of the object before lying it gently back in the bag. He had to resolve things with Dean. Even if he had to tie Dean to the bed. Sam was about to walk out the door before he looked down and then back up at the cheap wood door. Maybe he ought to get dressed first. After quickly changing and placing his dirty clothes in his bag to clean later, he walked out of the bathroom, the brush of cool air wiping around him. How hot had the water been exactly?

He found Dean lying on his own bed; his things now back in his duffle bag and fully dressed with the exception of shoes and socks. He was flipping through the channels of the television. Sam could tell by the expression on Dean's face that he wasn't even paying attention to what he was flipping through. Sam laid his bag on the floor near the foot of the bed before sitting down. He gathered up all the strength he could, which seemed to be his lowest quality at the moment before speaking.

"Dean?" Sam said and saw his brothers head fling quickly to his direction, an empty yet somehow surprised gaze on his face. He had been right, he wasn't paying attention.

"Yeah?" Dean said as he turned to the T.V to turn it off before looking back at his brother and then looking up at the ceiling, giving him the gesture that he was listening.

"Dean…we…uh, need to talk." Dean looked at Sam from the corner of his eyes, his face holding no emotion as he looked at him. "Sam, we don't…" but Dean was cut off as Sam stood up, his voice following cue. "Yes, Dean, we do. Look, I know you told me not to but I'm sorry. It wasn't me saying those things at the Asylum. And you are gonna listen because I know you don't believe me" Sam was now walking around near the entrance his voice firm which had surprised them both. Sam for the shock that he sounded so strong when he felt so weak and Dean for the fact that Sam was giving orders. Dean sat up, his eyes staring intently at his folded hands as he thought.

Sam saw his face get blank before changing completely into a Dean that was so rarely shown and he got the sudden urge to back down. But he couldn't. Not until Dean and him got things resolved. "Sam…" Dean started, his voice taking an unexpected hitch, as if he couldn't breathe. Sam couldn't help but think he did this. He had to fix it. He did this, he had to fix. He kept repeating it like a mantra before Dean spoke again.

"I don't know what's going on. And I will admit that I don't know what it is I understand right now. But…Jesus, Sam…I…I just…"

Sam waited for him to continue even though he already knew what was coming and he slowly stepped forward a step before stopping. If his brother was going to be vulnerable, he needed his space, and Sam could tell Dean was grateful when his shoulders slouched a little after Sam retraced his step back.

"You shot me."

It had come out as a whisper an almost inaudible sound, but Sam had caught it and had wanted desperately to throw it back.

"Dean I'm sorry…please, it wasn't me."

"Sam I know you are trying but…" Dean trailed off and for some reason, Sam got angry.

"Dean can you please do something to try and make this better!" Sam yelled and before he knew it, Dean was standing up, his face not only of anger but of pain.

"What the hell am I supposed to do here Sam? Tell me and I would gladly abide to your fucking wishes! How do you expect me to get the image of your hate directed at me out of my head?" Dean yelled.

Sam stood shocked, his voice leaving him. So he was right…the façade had been just that. Each time Dean had said he believed him, it was a façade. And now he was paying the price. Sam couldn't shake the look of hurt radiating from Dean, who was clearly trying hard to hide his pain and hurt _and_ anger but failing miserable.

There was no going back now and he had to resolve this. He loved his brother and this was not how it was supposed to be.

Sam watched carefully as Dean took a few steps back before resting himself against the back of the small rooms' wall.

"Dean, please. I could never, ever hate you. It was Ellicott, you have to believe me. Dean you are my brother. From painting to my first fire arms practice. Losing you would be…" Sam trailed off, not wanting to think about it.

Dean was his back bone, his sole thing in the world that had been constant. Dean had always been his safe guard, even since the days back when Dad would leave. Dean played the superman to scare away the shadows that were, in-fact just shadows. He had played the Santa Clause even after John had told them it was a lie. He had been the shoulder to cry on when he scraped his legs and his protector in harsh storms. And even as they got older…Dean had been there, making sure he did his homework and didn't kill himself studying. Sure they weren't as extreme as Santa Clause to a 4 year old but he had been there.

Dean and Sam had taken the blame for each other so many times, that it was hard to remember who really did do what.

While Sam had been at Stanford, Dean had sent voicemails and text messages, which he now regrets for never returning. Dean had even one Christmas left a box of goods; even if in them had been a box of condoms and an address for a strip joint a mile down the road. But there had also been some M&M's and a little G.I. Joe. When they were little, around the ages of 10 and 6, and Dean would not know how to calm his brother, which wasn't too often, he would hand him a G.I. Joe and told him that even if he wasn't the best protector or always around he would be strong for him like G.I. Joe against Cobra.

Back then Sam didn't realize what it meant but he had understood when he hit his teen years.

Sam looked up at his brother, whose head was bowed slightly as if thinking. What was he thinking about? Sam wondered in his mind. After a moment, his brother looked up at him, and Sam could have sworn he saw light. And right then, he had known his brother believed him. "How could you remember painting? You were 6." Dean said and Sam saw the almost care freeness back in his brother and couldn't contain the smile. Sam couldn't answer, but somehow he knew his brother understood.

And before another word could be spoken and before the blink of an eye, teddy bear Dean Winchester had once again become G.I. Joe Dean Winchester. "If this ever leaves this room Sam, I swear I am going to kick your ass." Dean said as he walked over to his bed and got under the covers. Sam nodded at his brother, realizing that after that he deserved a little of being listened to but come morning, when he was to be woken up by his brothers stupid antics, he would not be so kind.

Sam smiled as he mimicked Dean's actions, thinking of all the tricks he could pull when they were doomed to sit in a car for hours on end.

Should really being stuck with Dean be a doomed situation or a blessing?

"Don't forget to turn out the light pansy."

Sam shook his head as he got up and out of bed to turn the lights off.

Yeah, it was still a doomed situation.

"Yeah okay whatever, Jerk" Sam said, knowing Dean had told him to because he knew Sam would have gotten into bed already.

"Bitch." Sam smiled at the names, ones they had invented from middle teens. Just as Sam was about to fall asleep to what was hopefully a dreamless sleep, he heard his brother talk.

"G' night Sammy."

Sam smiled a smile so bright that hadn't been seen since Jess died. He could see again and he could here again.

"G' night Dean."

And as Sam heard Dean slowly fall asleep, he brought one more thing up that he had nearly forgotten,

"And I will find out if you got turned down by that girl."

Had Sam paid attention, he would have heard something along the lines of a strong sting of curse words and would have seen the pillow that was flying towards his head.

End

A/N: Okay so what did you think? This was my first posted Supernatural story and it might suck but work with me here. Anyway, the second chapter will be Pt.2 and Is **Dean's P.O.V** so if you don't care for his point of view then don't read it but you know that little purple button down there is beckoning you to just push it for this chapter! Its saying "Review!" Okay so maybe it's in my mind but still please review I would love to know what you thought…unless you are flaming then maybe not so much. Later! Oh and sorry if they are out of character a little. Thank you for dealing with me! I Love you all for doing so later! Again…


	2. Chapter 2

A/N- Do you ever wonder if people read these author's notes? I do...I wonder if I put somethign reallly weird on here if anyone woud notice. Lol. Here is part 2, Dean's P.O.Vish..Lol...you know what I mean. Enjoy! Oh and thankyou to these following people who reviewed, put this story on their alert listor C2 community and favorites. Thanks!

**Flying-pink-llamas-attack, Calenor, Kitiaria, Spuffyshipper, Angst, give me angst...(C2), HOCKEYMAN-68, Larabiehn**

Thankyou again:D

P.S- I know I am probably not doing the Winchester boys justice and I apologize for that. This is afterall my first Supernatural fanfic. Lol. OH!and...**Disclaimer: I do not own Dean or Sam Winchester (or Jensen and Jared..lol). That credit goes to Eric Kipirk(sp? bad I know...sorry) and I give him (and of course the boys) a big applauding! **

_**From G.I. Joe to Teddy Bear**_

_**Chapter 2: Part 2**_

_**DEANS P.O.V**_

Dean opened the door to the small motel room. He walked over to the bed closest to the door, laying his duffel bag on it. He needed a shower and his chest was aching painfully, not that he would admit it. He was about as stubborn as his father, if not worse.

"You know sometime...you are gonna have to tell me." Sam said. Dean's eyes stared blanky at the duffel bag as he continued to pull out his clothes. Things had been tense but he forced himself to remain himself. No chick flick moments. That was the Winchester way. Dean smiled. That was probably the corniest name he thought of. Winchester way. Dean pulled out his deodorent and dagger, setting them on the bed before getting the other piece of clothing out.

"Only in your dreams, Sam" Dean said and placed his dagger under the pillow before walking towards the bathroom, a white, folded

bath towel in hand.Dean couldn't help but not call him Sammy...his mind couldn't take the look of hate in his eyes. No, Sammy wouldn't shoot him, bullet or no. But even as Dean thought this...he knew it wasnt true. But the terrible pain from his chest told him to keep thinking that if not until he got to the bathroom.

Dean was so happy when he made it to the door and he was just about to close it when Sam spoke up again. "You know, I will find out."

Dean decided to keep his cool, even with a continous panging in his chest as he turned, pulling out his signature smirk and as he turned to look at Sam, he thought he saw his face change but it only lasted a moment. He then watched Sam as his thoughts strayed, judging by the sudden "zoned" expression. Dean's smirk became smug as he knew Sam wouldn't find out. After all...he was Mr. G.I. Joe himself, good and keeping secrets and even better at killing ones that were truly dangerous.

Dean remembered playing "take and hide" Sam's things when he was younger. He knew the best hiding places for Sam's toys and he had to wonder if Sam's shoes were still buried in the trailer parks animal cemetary in Maryland. But then there was those situations where the secrets were not of amusement.

He could still remember his little brothers teary eyed puppy stare as he limped into the apartment with a bleeding nose and a split lip. Dean had gotten into a fist on fist brawl with a shapeshifter that had taken the form of a body builder. Dean could still hear his brother asking if it hurt and could still here the lie rolling off his tounge, 'of course not. I'm superman'. Dean also remembered the way Sam had jumped up and down with a squeal and kept calling him superman for months to come.

Dean's face grew sad for a moment. Sam would probably leave again before ever thinking of him as any type of superhero. Dean had failed him so much...

Dean realized he was still standing in the doorway of the bathroom and not in a small trailer in Indiana. Or was it Pennsylvania? There was too many trailer parks to try and remember, so he didn't. Instead, he remembered his poker face.

"Whatever Sam." Dean said as he walked into the bathroom and closed the door, pushing the button on it, locking the door. Dean rested against the door, his head resting on it as he tried to calm the raging headache that was making itself a drum concert. He could have sworn Sam was doing the same, but he had everyright.

Sam had recieved a lot of his forementioned poker faces these past few days and each time he cracked a joke to cover the pain of not being able to heal the situation with him and his brothers once strong bond that was slowly severing, his heart became just a little more heavy.

He didnt know what Sam felt about him, but the balance was shaking dangerously. Those words were painful, back at the Asylum, they tore his soul and he didnt know how to sew. 'Just my luck' Dean thought as he pushed off the door and rested his towel on the sink, on folding it. In the folded towel was a roll of bandages and a small peroxide bottle. Dean looked at the mirror and sighed. His face looked like a kids show explosion. 'No chick digs a cartoon' Dean thought with mild amusement as he took off his leather jacket and shirt and looked at his chest, and all amusement left him.

The bandages he had on were raggedy, the color turning from white to a light brown. Probably from sweating after being in a heat box also known as a basement bomb. There was also random placed patches blood that had seeped through but the blood was dried and crusty, precisely why he needed to change them.

Dean considered asking Sam for help once he got out of the shower. Cleaning the wounds with peroxide was a killer but withstand able. It was the rebandaging part that was difficult...and painful...no matter how much he hated to admit it. The bandages had to be tight and bending forward to tie it was painful, due to being thrown into the all.

He touched the bandages, considering again before a thought came into his head. Sam did this to him. And Dean didn't want that guilt to build on Sam, no matter how much it hurt him. Dean turned away from the mirror not wanting to see the other reason reflect in his eyes. He didnt want to see the weakness behind them. Dean placed the bandages and peroxide on the sink counter and put the white towel on the silver pole on the wall that had another towel already on it.

Dean walked to the shower and turned it on, not even flinching when the squeak of the metal on metal made itself known. He had seen hundreds of motel bathrooms and the noise was a common necessity in the bad excuses-of-home-away-from home comfort. But he was shocked to find that the manager's statement of hot water was a true statement, as the water began to steam up. He closed the curtain so not to get the already molding tile any more moist then it was as he removed the rest of his clothing. Dean also removed the bandages, throwing them into the waist basket and stepped into the shower, wincing as the hot water made contact with the still fresh wounds.

Dean braced his arm on the wall and gritted his teeth. Damn...it felt like he just got shot again. Dean felt the pain go numb, his heart beating out the pain as his eyes glazed over. He could remember the morose feeling of the room when he stepped down that final step to find Sam looking at him. He could remember the smell of death that seemed to go on forever. He could remember the feeling of having his younger brother pull a trigger of gun at point blank.

He shook his heads and continued his shower, scrubbing at his skin as if to try and get rid of anything that could remind him of that night. And in his mind, that meant dissapearing all together.

Dean finished his shower in almost 10 minutes, saving his brother the other 10. But who honestly has shower minutes? Dean grabbed his towel, giving a quick dry to his hair before tying the towel around his waist. He stepped out onto the shag rug and made his way to the sink.

He noticed that his chest was still red, the places where the rocksalt had been a darker shade and one was still lightly bleeding. Probably from washing it. Once he cleaned it up, it wouldn't bleed again. He did the quick process of dabbing the peroxide on his chest with a handful of toilet paper then got to the hard task of putting the bandages on. And once he had finished, he wished he _had_ let Sam help. His back now was sore and his chest was no better. But Dean pushed that behind him as he looked around the bathroom for his clothes before realizing that he had left them on the bed.

Shrugging his shoulders he picked up his clothes, which took more effort then it looked at walked out of the bathroom. He watched Sam jump a tiny bit and wondered what was on his little brothers mind...although he had an idea. They may not be Peter and Greg Brady but they were close. But if Sam ever found out that Dean even knew the exact names of the Brady "buckets of shit", he would disown Sam as a brother because of the guranteed torment he would recieve.

He made his way over to his bed and could tell Sam had that sad face on as watched him. He didn't want that look on his little brother. It was his nature to not let Sam feel sad or hurt...so he would take it all, to bennifit Sam. Even if it was Sam who was the cause. Dean looked through his clothes, trying to drag his thoughts from the pain that was to come and couldn't help but fall into big brother mode when Sam kept staring with, no doubtly, those puppy dog eyes of sadness. Deciding to distract himself, and Sam, he pulled out his facade that he oh-so loved.

"Stop staring Sam, people might think you are an incester."

And Dean mentally smacked himself. That had to be his worse facade ever. Even if he wasn't a Geek Boy like Sam, he wasn't stupid...

...most of the time.

It also didn't take a genius to realize Sam had made a longer pause in retorting then usual and Dean could only pray it was because it truly was about his stupid remark.

"Incester isn't even a word, Dean." And Dean gave a small sigh as he heard his brother head to the bathroom. Good. Dean decided to reward himself with a real retort back to his brother.

"Yeah well either way, you are disgusting type of guy." Dean said as he turned to his brother at the laugh that Sam gave and once he took sight of his brother, he wondered just how good of a facade Sam could put up.

Sam had bags under his eyes that could compete with Paris Hilton on a shopping spree. And the first thought that came to Dean was Nightmares and Jessica. Okay two words, not including the and. He couldn't count the number times he had woken Sam from a sleep filled with pain and distress and each time he saw the look of horror in his eyes, he wanted to kill himself for letting Sam feel that...but how could he protect him from himself?

"You alright Sam, you look like shit. When's the last time you slept?" Dean asked, concern heavy in his voice.

Even when they were in tough situation like this, he couldn't stop caring for his younger brother. Even Sam had shot him with real bullets...that wouldn't go away. He would, as many things, never admit that. At least not until his death bed...maybe.

Dean turned back to his clothes, so not to see the horror again in his brothers eyes because in his current state, he might just choose that death bed. Dean looked at the object under his .22 revolver that had silver bullets in it and changed his mind. No, he could never leave Sam...no matter how much Sam might want him too.

"I'm fine, just been having some rough nights of sleep." Sam said and Dean could hear that it was a lie but heard Sam go into the bathroom so any protest of the lie was out of the question.

Dean looked over to the bathroom before noticing just how cool the room was and remembered...he was pretty much naked. Dean quickly changed into his clothes of t-shirt and jeans. They had to be up and out early in the morning to avoid being questioned by the inn manager about the names on the credit card. Mr. Lars Ulrich and Mr. Torbin Ulrich. He hadn't ment to make him father and son but Lars didn't have a brother...but then again, he wasnt Lars. Dean finished putting his stuff away and set it next to his bed.

He acknowleged the screech of the faucet before painfully laying on his bed, his freshly cleaned wounds still being a pain in the ass before picking up the remote on the nightstand.

Dean couldn't barely saw what was on the television. Except when The Brady Bunch came on and he gave a breathy laugh at the irony before quickly changing it. And then changing the channel became an addiction and he watched as the flashes of the screen imprinted itself into his mind. It was just like those memories that appeared in his head. Like a flickering slide show. Like...

_"...following Dad's orders like a good little soldier?"_

Dean's finger kept hitting the channel up button, like a robot.

_"You think you could kill your own brother?"_

Dean could hear the click of the remote and of the gun.

_Click_

_Click_

_Click_

Dean could see the flashes of the screen and he could see the flashes of pain with each click that was coming from his heart.

"Dean?"

Dean jumped, his head snapping over to Sam's form that was sitting on his bed. He felt his emotions run empty as he was shocked. When had Sam come out of the bathroom? How long had he seen him staring at the t.v. blankly...well...almost. Dean, deciding it best to at least try and act normal, responded.

"Yeah?" As he looked at the t.v, listening at the click of the power button and the flash of the screen's color dissapearing. How he wished it was as simple to end this as a click of button. Then he gave a quick look at Sam before playing it cool and looking at the ceiling, as if resting with a stare.

"Dean...we...uh...need to talk." Sam said and Dean looked at him out of the corner of his eye, not wanting to reveal too much on how he did want to talk but didn't know if he could and kept his face blank.

He had suddenly become much better at hiding those emotions of his.

He decided he should resist. Things could become touchy and he wasn't in the mood to be weak like a teddy bear...that was a 10 year old who helped his innocent 6 year old brother, not the 26 year old who had been shot by his not-so-innocent 22 year old brother.

"Sam,we don't..." But Dean never got to reply, because his "little" brother spoke, louder. And to add to the affect, he stood.

The boy was good.

"Yes, Dean, we do. Look, I know you told me not to but I'm sorry. It wasn't me saying those things at the Asylum. And you are gonna listen because I know you don't believe me."

Dean watched his younger pace and heard his words. Dean thought this a moment and realized that he didn't believe Sam, but he didn't believe Ellicott either. Dean was in shock, Sam was being the older brother and he was doing a good job. He didn't care what Sam said...

He was a lot like their father.

Dean put his hands together as he sat up, understanding that...this was needed, they were going to talk about it. Dean could feel his wall breaking, his emotions returning and they were showing no mercy. And he felt his face fall. He felt his heart fall. He just felt like he was falling. In a damn hole that was going to hurt him. _Or heal you._ Dean heard himself think and he tightened his hand-to-hand grip.

"Sam..." Dean said and he felt the breathe in his lungs become of short supply and he could fear the tears he didn't want to get past the idea of them. Clearly, they thought differently.

Dean felt his muscles tighten as he tried to get the words out that he needed out and he felt Sam's gaze on him.

"I don't know what's going on. And I will admit that I don't know what it is I understand right now. But...Jesus, Sam...I...I just..." And Dean could feel it, his true emotions raging its ugly head. Dean needed this off his chest but he never was the expressive one.

Dean looked up at Sam and he knew exactly how to get it out. Bluntly, the true Dean Winchester style. And Dean was glad that their brother thing was still working, whatever it was, because he didn't fail to notice Sam resist stepping forward and he slunched his shoulders, this would make it easier if they were still close.

"You shot me."

Dean felt it come out lower than he would have liked but it was out and that was good.

"Dean I'm sorry...please, it wasn't me."

He could hear the pleading in Sam's voice and couldn't help but almost believe him but then a glance of the t.v from the corner of his eye and he knew he couldn't. Those clicks of a non-exsistant bullet popping from the mag into the chamber still echoed in his head.

"Sam I know you are trying but..." Dean couldn't finish his sentence, the thoughts too much to deal with.

"Dean can you please do something to try and make this better!" And Dean lost it. His strength and his weakness but somehow he gained both as he stood and he tried to hide his emotions again but failed horribly.

"What the hell am I supposed to do here Sam? Tell me and I would gladly abide to your fucking wishes! How do you expect me to get the image of your hate directed of me out of my head?"

And it was out. Dean could barely believe he had said it but his anger kept his strength, even though his pain was slowly weakening him. Dean saw shock pass across Sam's face and could tell he finally understood. The lack of closeness could have been sign but this worked better. Dean couldn't hide the force of his words hitting him as he felt the pain of it all happen again.

Dean couldn't feel anything except his words, Sam's words and the room of that damned Asylum as he slowly backed from Sam and to the back wall. Dean couldn't hear anything for a moment, not the cars on the road passing the motel. Not the people watching The Price is right two doors down. He couldn't hear anything...until Sam spoke.

"Dean, please. I could never, ever hate you. It was Ellicott, you have to believe me. Dean you are my brother. From painting to my first fire arms practice. Losing you would be..." and Dean heard the truth in Sam's words. He could feel the pain of Sam's thoughts had he really shot and lost him.

Dean couldn't believe how sincere his words were. Never had he had them directed at him none-the-less. Not since his mother died. Dean kept his head down, not wanting to see his brother until he cleared himself up.

This was Sammy. His brother who did care if he lived or died and he could here it in those four words. "Losing you would be...". The..l...lo..._care_ his brother meant was different. Who the hell was he trying to kid? He loved his brother and he could tell that his brother loved him. Dean could remember painting. Sam hadn't known how to use the paints without spilling, or eating, it. And Dean remembered the first fire arms practice.

John had given Sammy rules but it had been Dean who helped place him, who had told him how to not get hit by the kick back of the simple 9mm. Dean remembered and was surprised Sam did. Dean could never hate his brother and he couldn't understand why he so easily believed his brothers statement so easily. Maybe it really was this "brotherly shit". Maybe it was because it was true. Dean imagined the long nights of fighting with himself on why but for now, he didn't care. He had his brother back. No, he allowed his brother back.

Dean gave a slight sigh, trying to get back into his old self before looking up at his brother with a smile that was not a smirk but a smile.

And Dean could see Sam lighten up, his demeanor that much stronger towards happiness and knew things would be okay.

That is until Dean had Sam check him into an insane asy...clinic for fighting with himself on his easy give in. But like before, that was for later.

"How could you remember painting? You were 6." Dean said, trying to lighten the now not so tense room, much appreciated by both.

Sam smiled and that was all Dean needed to "hear". Because he had been there, and Dean felt his spirits lift higher.

God how their father would kill them for being so girly. But they both knew he had a soft side...even if it was a smal margerine.

Dean quickly took his Dad's advice and straightened up, his smirk playing nicely on his features. "If this ever leaves this room Sam, I swear I am going to kick your ass." Dean walked over to his bed and got under, trying to play it the "Dean" way. Okay, so he wasn't the best with his titles. But who's paying attention.

Dean heard Sam get into bed and his old self shown through brilliantly.

"Don't forget to turn off the lights pansy."

Dean felt himself laugh a little at his greatness, his cocky self taking advantage of being back before Sam spoke once again.

"Yeah okay whatever, Jerk."

Dean smiled and replied.

"Bitch." And he could feel the old terms ringing in his ears like a Metallica concert. Kick ass.

Dean felt himself drift off and decided to give his brother one last touchy-feely moment.

"G' night Sammy." And Dean could only hope it would help Sam...no Sammy, sleep better knowing his nickname was there to annoy him with.

"G' night Dean." Dean smiled and felt himself fall asleep.

"And I will find out if you got turned down by that girl."

Dean's eyes shot open as he gave out his string of cuss words before he took the second pillow and chucked it at Sammy's unknowning form and then rested again.

_Bullshit if that happens geek boy._

And with that, Dean fell asleep.

A/N- YAY! So...what did you think? I know, characters off...forgive. Thankyou all for reading and please review, you make my world go round when you do! Okay that sounds obsessive, talk about insane asy...clinic. Lol. Sorry again if its not dead on, first supernatural fan fic. And its complete! Let me know your thoughts. Love you all, Im not crazy!Oh and sorry for spelling, still no microsoft word :(


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